Dora laughed wryly. 'Oh, I know that. I had one for years and years! It certainly wasn't everything.’

Jo chuckled and picked up some crisps.

‘But why couldn't you have stayed in the house? People would have rallied round, been nice to you, wouldn't they?' Dora thought about the lovely Georgian home with the garden that Jo had made so beautiful. Moving on to a barge must have felt a bit of a come-down – or a downsize at the very least.

Jo was eager to reassure her. 'Oh yes, everyone was very supportive while I was still there. They kept asking me out to girly lunches, found spare men for me, but I couldn't bear the pity. When I moved here, no one knew anything about my previous life and I felt I could start being someone different.' She frowned. 'Actually, not someone different, I mean the person I was all the time, when I was pretending to be a good woman who ran jumble sales and sat on committees.'

‘Didn't you like all that then?' Dora's mother loved nothing more than sitting at the head of a table of people with a glass of water and a clipboard.

‘Some of the time,' acknowledged Jo. 'Lots of it was pretty boring.' She sighed. 'I'm not on any committees now. It's bliss!' Then she bit her lip. 'Except I've got to help decorate the tables for the gala dinner tomorrow. I still haven't quite got the knack of not volunteering.'

‘And we've got to tidy up for the boat parade thing?’

‘Yes.'

‘I'm quite good at tidying. My mother forced me into being a tidy person.'

‘Huh! She had more luck than my mother did then! She tried to force me into being tidy too, but she never managed it. It's why I never told Karen to tidy her bedroom.’

Dora was utterly incredulous. 'What, never?'

‘Well, no, because there was never a moment when her room was worse than mine.' She sighed again. 'I think it may have been one of the reasons Philip left me, although he never said.'

‘You would like me to help? You wouldn't think I was being bossy?’

Jo put a hand on her knee and laughed. 'With a daughter like mine, no one even comes close in the bossy stakes. And anyway, I'm grateful for all the help I can get.’

Dora was almost as fond of Karen as Jo was but entirely agreed with the first statement. 'Shall we put some musicon? I've got a CD that always gives me energy. It's quite old, of course. One of Dad's, but I love it.’

Jo got up, laughing. 'That'll suit me fine, then. The CD player's over there.’

The heavy rock music did get Jo into the mood for cleaning. She'd meant to do it all before Dora came, of course, but after she'd done the bathroom and Dora's bedroom, there'd been no time for the saloon and kitchen.

Dora had purloined the Hoover and was putting her back into the floor. Jo was trying to clear the table, a much less satisfying task as it required decisions. Jo hated making decisions. Unaware that she was doing it, she put her hand in her pocket and found a piece of ribbon. It had come off a bale of tea towels she had bought for Dora's benefit. She squared off a pile of papers and magazines and tied the ribbon round it. Then she put it next to the bowl of fruit. She considered. Not quite an artistic statement, but it did make it look as if the papers needed to be there.

Living on her own had allowed her to become even more untidy than she had been before. When she was married, to a tidy man, she'd been forced to clean and tidy at boringly regular intervals. Now she was free of that she'd let things slide rather. She filled the dishwasher with her usual lightning speed. The rock music made her want to dance and she did wiggle about a bit as she wiped the surfaces in the kitchen, but really letting rip might have made Dora worry that she was now living with a lunatic. Worse, she might report back to Karen that her mother had finally lost it.

She wiped a cloth wrung out in a bleach solution round the portholes, where condensation, and then black mould, tended to gather. It wasn't her barge, she only rented it, but it was her home. When Michael, an old university friend of Philip's, had offered it as a place she might go to, she'd been thrilled.

Philip had been totally against the idea. 'You could never live on a boat!' he had said. 'It's a ridiculous idea! Why not rent a flat or a house somewhere instead?’

Any idea that living on a barge might not be a good idea had evaporated at his words. Living in a cut-down, lesser version of what she was used to would be humiliating. Finding a completely different solution seemed a much better idea. 'Because I want to live on a barge,' she'd said firmly, 'and there's nothing you can do to stop me!’

There had been a side to Philip that was quite controlling, and the realisation that he'd forfeited his right to tell his wife what he felt was best for her had caused him to fall silent for a moment. 'Well, don't come running to me if it all goes wrong!' he had said eventually.

‘Philip, you have left me for a younger woman. If I need anything from you at any time, I will ask for it!' She had taken a breath. 'For nearly thirty years I looked after you and Karen, I gave up my career, I kept up the house and garden, I did my bit for the community and I entertained your boring business friends for dinner. You owe me!'

‘You are a wonderful cook,' he'd said, trying to placate the woman who had become much stronger than she had been during their marriage.

‘I know! But I'm no longer your wonderful cook!’

‘Oh, Jo, I do feel bad! You know I do-'

‘Well, how do you think I feel! I'll tell you: discarded. Like a bit of old carpet that did sterling service for years and then is dragged off to the local tip! That's how I feel. And if I want to live on a barge, I will.’

Michael had been very pleased to think his barge might have a tenant. She had met him and he had shown her round.

‘I'm going to be out of the country for at least a year, and boats don't like being left with no one to look after them. You'll be doing me a favour.'

‘It was very kind of you to think of me,' Jo had said. 'Well, I wouldn't have thought of you if Philip hadn't emailed me and told me what had happened.'

‘He did that? How odd! I didn't think you saw each other often enough for that.'

‘Oh, we haven't met for years, but we've got each other's email addresses, and he sent one to everyone in his "old friends" file in his address book.'

‘He didn't!’

Michael had nodded. 'I don't think he's proud of it, Jo. He just felt he had to tell everyone.’

Jo had sighed, trying not to feel betrayed all over again. 'Oh well, it's worked out to my advantage. It's a beautiful barge, and I'm going to love living here.' Especially when she discovered she'd still be able to email Karen and use her mobile, from certain parts of the barge anyway.

‘It's a good community,' Michael had said. 'People from all walks of life live here. Some most of the time, some just for weekends, but they're a good bunch. They'll rally round if necessary.’

Jo had started to say that it wouldn't be necessary, but then realised there was a lot to learn about boat life and she probably would need to call on people for help from time to time, so didn't.

Three weeks later, she'd moved on to the barge. Philip had brought her things, guilt making him extremely helpful. After a few teething problems, when she had needed help to make the pump-out function, she had taken to it like the proverbial duck to water.

‘As long as I don't have to go anywhere,' she had said to Michael on the phone when he'd rung up to check that she'd settled in. 'I'll be absolutely fine!’

And now she had Dora. If Dora's situation hadn't been desperate, she would have suspected her daughter Karen of planting Dora. While she hadn't really been lonely, she was programmed to look after people. Having a broken hearted surrogate daughter was just what she needed.